If I Die Before I Live
by Semperfigal08
Summary: The super-soldier serum worked...until one day it didn't. Suddenly Steve finds himself with time once more against him...
1. Chapter 1

The super-soldier serum worked…until one day it didn't.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel characters. Spoilers for well everything!

_Captain Nuisance_

It had all started after his battle with the Winter Soldier-Bucky. He had nearly died, and the doctor's had insisted on keeping him for an entire week. For the first three days he was too out of it too really care; and each time he woke up Sam Wilson was there. And at one point he was positive he had seen Tony Stark stride in carrying a very familiar red, white, and blue disk. But he had been too tired and in too much pain to ask how he had retrieved it.

By day far he was feeling better; still awful, but better. And Captain America might have been the symbol of truth, justice, and kids make sure you eat your veggies, but Stephen Rogers was a terrible patient. A nuisance really, in Sam Wilson's opinion.

"Seriously, I'm ready to leave," Steve tried for the tenth time to sweet talk the little nurse taking his vitals. "I promise I'll be good; stay in bed, take the medicines that don't work, brush my teeth between meals…"

Sam was sitting in his usual chair, arms crossed across his chest. The nurse, Alaine, just shook her head. "I'm sorry Mr. Rogers, but you still have a fever and cannot get around unassisted. Not to mention you have four bullet holes and a stab wound. And ten stitches in your face."

Steve let out a large puff of air. "So as soon as I can walk around this room by myself, I can go home?"

"Nice try Captain," she smiled fondly at him. "But that's not what I said. Why don't you just let us take care of you for once…I'll be back in an hour, here's your dinner menu. I'll be sure to add in extra veggies."

Steve sighed and leaned back against the soft pillows and closed his eyes. He would never admit it, but he was exhausted and still in a considerable amount of pain. The gallon of drugs they were pumping into his bloodstream were practically being absorbed before they could do anything but take off a little bit of the sting.

"I brought checkers," Sam announced, pulling a travel sized version of the game out of his duffel bag.

Steve reopened his eyes and glanced at his faithful friend, who was wearing a sympathetic smile. Guilt tugged at him. "You don't have to stay Sam. I appreciate it, I really do, but I know I'm not the best company today."

"You're lousy company today," Sam stated as he moved his chair closer and set the game on Steve's bedside table. "But what are friends for?"

Finally the day came when Steve was released. Quite possibly, he had never been so happy in his life. He was given a long list of instructions on how to tend to his wounds, prescribed a very large dosage of pain pills and sent on his merry way. It had been arranged that Steve would crash at Sam's house for a couple of days, since he couldn't go to his own apartment and with S. H. I. E. L. gone, he wasn't quite sure what he was going to do. Besides find Bucky.

"I don't have a guest room, so you take my bed and I'll crash on the couch."

"No way," Steve shook his head as they rode the elevator to Sam's apartment. He leaned against the wall and hoped he didn't look as pale as he felt. "Your house; I'll take the couch."

Sam snorted. "Like I'm going to let the injured guy sleep on the couch. You look awful, by the way."

"Thanks," Steve rolled his eyes as the got to Sam's floor. His steps were slow, one arm wrapped firmly around his abdomen.

Sam grinned wickedly as he unlocked the door. "Bet I could beat you running today."

"Give me a few days and I'll be running circles around you. Again."

"Man, can't you just let me have my moment?" Sam pointed him towards the couch. "Go sit."

"Sheesh, I'm out of commission for a week and you're suddenly given me orders? I guess we'll have to start calling you Lieutenant Bird-boy."

"Hey, at least I haven't been a Captain for like, seventy years." He poured two large glasses of water. "Shouldn't you at least be a Colonel by now?"

"Doesn't have the same ring to it." He downed the entire glass and leaned back, eyes closing involuntarily. "Thanks Sam, for everything."

"Don't mention it," Sam told him and Steve nodded. "I- I don't like feeling helpless. It brings back unpleasant memories."

"Like I said, don't mention it. It's not like I haven't dealt with cranky Captains before."

A small smile spread across Steve's lips. "I hate to break it to ya, but I'm not really a Captain."

What Steve didn't say before he went to bed that night was that he'd never been this injured before, or out of commission for this long since he'd had the serum. And he couldn't remember being this sore and in so much pain for so long. It felt like the serum wasn't healing him as quickly as it normally did. He didn't like to think why that might be. He tried to push that unpleasant thought away as he drifted off to sleep.

Slow start perhaps, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway! This story is going to include a quest for Bucky so stay tuned.


	2. Reveries and Denials

Disclaimer: still don't own the Marvel characters, just this little idea and the other random ones that pop into my little brain. In this chapter: BUCKY! Flashbacks in italics. My own little take on Steve and Bucky's first meeting. Also, there is probably going to be a story about that in the not so distant future Enjoy!

Reveries and Denials

"_You know me."_ The words played over and over again in his head like a broken record. He watched the footage of the two men; the two _best friends since childhood_ play out before him. Ever since the battle a week ago he had come to the Smithsonian every day, trying to remember something, anything. The man in the red, white, and blue costume, his mission, had somehow broken whatever spell the monsters had held over him but the memories were slow in returning.

Wandering into the mostly empty theater he sat down and put his head in his hands. _Who am I? Who is Captain America? Am I really this Bucky Barnes?_

_ Suddenly he had an image of a sickly skinny eight-year old blonde headed kid and a healthy looking, taller brunette on a playground in a different world. The blonde boy was sprawled on the ground, sporting a brand new black eye and split lip. The brunette had blood on his knuckles from the bully he had just chased away. He offered the smaller boy a hand up. _

"_Are you ok?"_

_T he blonde nodded, wiping at his lip. "I had him on the ropes."_

"_Sure ya did," the brunette snorted. "He looked ready to run away in fear any second."_

_ The small boy scowled. "I can fight you too."_

"_I just saved your life and now you want to fight me? What a punk!"_

"_I wouldn't have to be a punk if you weren't such a jerk."_

_ They stared at each other for several moments before the brunette shrugged and stuck out his hand. "Name's James Buchanan Barnes. My friends call me Bucky."_

"_Stephen Rogers…and I don't have any friends." The boy said as they shook hands._

"_Guess you do now…Steve."_

_ Steve smiled. "Thanks for your help. I'm those particular bullies favorite target."_

_ Bucky grinned widely. "Looks like it's a good thing I showed up. I'm with ya now pal, 'til the end of the line."_

The former assassin suddenly blinked out of his reverie. The man from a week ago had said those words too him as he dropped his only weapon and told him to complete his mission. _I'm with ya, until the end of the line._

He shook his head and stood angrily. He'd been lied to his whole life…why would this costumed man be any different than anyone else. There was no way he was James Buchanan Barnes…because he refused to accept that he had just tried to murder his best friend.

Short chapter I know, but like I said this is going to be a bit of a Bucky quest and I just needed to lay a foundation. R&amp;R!


	3. An Unexpected Funeral

Still don't own the Marvel characters, please R&amp;R! This story is going to have some twists and turns along the way so hold on!

An Unexpected Funeral

Sam rose at his usual 6 a.m. and half expected his house guest to already be up and ready to greet the day. The closed door to his room told him otherwise and he figured it was for the best. The good Captain needed to get some rest. Tying on his running shoes he left a quick note just in case Steve woke up and set out at a brisk run. Dawn was just splitting the horizon when he came to the place he and Steve had first met and a familiar black car was parked. Casually, he jogged over to it.

Tapping the window he called, "Knock knock."

The tinted passenger window rolled down. "Get in."

Sam did so and the door locked behind him. Widow pulled back into traffic. "We've got to stop meeting here. People might get the feeling we're an item."

"Cute bird-boy; I'm about to ditch the car, among other things but I figured you'd be here. Where's Rogers?"

"Recuperating. Where have you been the past week? I thought you two were friends."

"I'm out of covers…and I couldn't risk putting him in danger. How's he doing?"

"Better. He wants to find Barnes."

"I figured he would…he text me before I blew up the phone. Asked for some info."

"You blew up your phone? Isn't that slightly extreme Natasha?"

"A lot of people want me dead Wilson," she told him quietly. "Listen, there's going to be a funeral at Capital Cemetery, 1500 hours. Bring Steve with you."

"A funeral?"

"That's all I can tell you," Natasha said as she pulled up to his apartment. "Tell Steve to be on his guard. Both of you, be on your guard."

"Always," Sam said as he got out and watched her drive away. Shaking his head, he wondered what he was doing, getting involved in all of this again.

Steve awoke to someone outside the door and became instantly alert. Glancing around frantically he found himself in an unfamiliar room and his eyes scanned the area until they landed on the sought after item; his shield, placed in a chair on the left side of his bed. His heartbeat slowed as he remembered he was at Sam's house, and it was probably him outside the door. Running a shaky hand through his hair he glanced at the clock. 7:00 a.m. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept that late.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed he stood quickly, his vision blurring as a wave of dizziness swept over him. Man he wished he'd hurry up and heal he thought as he stumbled out the door. Sure enough, he could hear Sam in the kitchen.

"Hungry?" his new friend asked as he followed the aroma of eggs and bacon. "I made breakfast."

"I could eat," Steve said as he slid behind the table. "You totally should have woken me up."

"Why, so you could go running with me?" Sam chuckled. "I think we both know you're not quite up to that just yet, and there was no sense in waking you up just to sit around. I ran into your friend though."

"A friend friend, or one of those enemy friends I seem to have a slew of."

"Whatever you consider Romanoff."

"Oh…what did she say?"

"Apparently we've been invited to a funeral at 1500."

"I see…and who is it we're mourning."

"Didn't say, but if I had to guess I'd say a certain one-eyed pirate."

Steve exhaled loudly. "Wonder who else is invited."

"I'm guessing it's going to be a private affair."

At exactly 1500 the two stood casually in front of Nick Fury's grave. Sam was right; there was no one else there.

"Well this is awkward. We're standing over a not so dead-dead guy's grave, at an empty funeral. Why would Widow do that?"

"Hey fellas," a familiar red-head strode toward them. "So…what did I miss?"

"The corpse," Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "What's this all about?"

"Don't worry, it's weird for me too," a tall man in dark sunglasses and gray beanie walked towards them. He glanced at his grave and up at Steve. "You've been through this before…"

Steve thought about his own grave at Arlington Cemetery. "You get used to it."

"Not for long; I'm out of here. There's lots of rebuilding to do."

"Maybe something's should stay buried." Steve said and Fury nodded. "Don't worry Rogers, I've learned my lesson. Take care of yourself Cap, I'll catch ya on the flip flop."

Waving, the former Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. left without a backwards glance.

"That's his way of saying thank-you," Natasha offered with a small smile.

"What about you?" Steve asked, raking a hand over his sweaty forehead. He was starting to feel lightheaded again. "You gonna stick around?"

"Fraid not Rogers," Natasha shook her head. "I've blown all my covers…gotta go make up a new one."

"That could take a while."

She smiled. "I'm counting on it. Take care of yourself Rogers, and you too Wilson."

"Will do," Steve felt a little sad as she turned then spun back around. "Here's that file you wanted."

She handed it to him and hesitated for a moment. "Be careful with that one Steve. You may not like what you find with that one."

"Thanks." Steve opened the manila folder, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He felt a hand on his shoulder. "When do we leave?"

"You don't have to do this Sam," he said as he snapped the file shut. "This might not be pleasant."

"Yeah…so let's go get a cup of coffee and figure this thing out."

Steve smiled. "Sounds good to me."

Sorry I changed the ending scene little…I couldn't remember the full dialogue. Enjoy!


	4. A New Mission

Still don't own! For any one interested…enjoy!

Steve sat in a sleepy little diner, nursing a long since cold cup of coffee. Sam sat across from him, gobbling a plate of steak and mashed potatoes.

"Sure you aren't hungry?"

"Positive," Steve said as he skimmed through the file Natasha had given him. What they had done to Bucky churned his stomach.

"You really think he's still in there?" Sam asked with a frown.

Steve shrugged and snapped the file shut. After what he had just read…he wasn't sure. "I don't know much about brainwashing…but there has to be a way to reverse it. And let's not forget who pulled me out of the river."

"If it was him; we don't actually know that it was."

"I know it was him."

"OK fine, but where do we even start looking for him?"

"Well, how far could a brainwashed assassin get in a week?"

"I guess it would depend how badly he doesn't want to get caught. And if he's searching for answers too."

Steve sighed and massaged his temples. "I think we need to pay a visit to a friend."

"We still have those?" Sam asked in mock surprise.

Steve gave a small smile. "Let's go see Tony Stark."

The Winter Soldier sat in the passenger seat of an eighteen wheeler, staring out the window. The driver had graciously offered him a ride out of the city, and the Soldier had accepted. After ten minutes the man had given up on trying to make small talk. This the Soldier appreciated, as it gave him time to muddle through his tormented thoughts. They didn't make sense…this Stephen Rogers, Bucky Barnes, the Howling Commandos. He couldn't believe he was really one of them…he needed answers.

The Winter Soldier had given himself a new mission: find out who he was and who he had been. And maybe, just maybe it wasn't as bad as he feared.


End file.
